Prelude
by SpankyButtons
Summary: Four years after Hogwarts, Harry realizes just how distant he's been. His friends will forgive him, but can Ginny? Post-Ootp
1. Revelation

Prelude

  


  


  


Four Years After Hogwarts

  


  


  


"So are you going to the ball?"

  


Harry looked up and realized Hermione was sitting across from him. She'd probably been sitting there a long time. Maybe even talking a long time. Sighing, Harry ran a heavy hand through his hair. 

  


  


"I'm sorry Hermione, what were you saying?" He tried to focus his eyes on her face.

  


  


They were sitting in the Three Broomsticks. It was quite empty. One lone man stood behind the counter, dusting out glasses, shining them to perfection. A soft tune was playing from somewhere upstairs. Outside, the stars were fading as a strip of dawn hazed over the horizon. 

  


  


Hermione looked both exasperated and sympathetic. "I was wondering whether you'd be attending the ball, you know... Hogwarts is holding one?" She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, watching him carefully.

  


  


Harry looked down at the scrubbed wooden table. There was a cup of tea steaming in front of him. He was so tired... 

  


  


Still slightly unsure of how he'd arrived at the Three Broomsticks in the first place, Harry answered Hermione's question. "Er – no, I don't think I will," his voice rough and quiet.

  


  


There was a pause and Harry didn't meet Hermione's eyes. 

  


  


"Oh, Harry." She pulled his hand into hers. Numbly surprised by this action, Harry sat, staring at her, waiting for her to say something.

  


  


For a long moment, she didn't talk. She only looked quietly at him, her hand holding his loosely. Harry didn't have enough energy to pull it away.

  


  


"We miss you, you know," she finally murmured. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Harry turned back to his tea cup. A trail of steam wafted into the air, curling around them. He didn't speak. 

  


  


"You never come to do things with us any more..." she said softly, "and you barely even see Ron. I - "

  


  


"I've been busy," Harry said finally, meaning to sound defiant, but was annoyed when his voice came out feeble.

  


  


"I know," Hermione said sadly, removing her hand from his. "But you've got to understand, Harry. You don't _need_ to be busy. Voldemort is gone and the Death Eaters are either dead, or in Azkaban."

  


  


Her voice was loud and calm in Harry's ears, making him feel like something was closing in upon him. He stared at her, in slight disbelief.

  


  


"I don't need to be busy?" he said incredulously, "What are you on about? Of course I do! Do you realize that the old Death Eaters could escape at any moment, or - " He sat up straighter, his anger mounting. "Or there might be someone daring to follow in Voldemort's footsteps? Any one of you could be hurt - "

  


  


"Harry, do you know how selfish that sounds?"

  


  


Harry stopped in mid-sentence and gazed her. "Selfish?"

  


  


"Yes, selfish." She fixed Harry with an accusing eye. "You've been acting like this all year, ever since you got out of Auror Training. And I, for one, am sick of you biting my head off. I'm sick of you acting like we're all still in danger, because we're _not_."

  


  


Her words were pounding in Harry's ears. "Look, it's late, Hermione, and you're tired." He stood up to leave.

  


  


"Harry, please, sit down," Hermione said, her voice much gentler than before. "I'm sorry I said that, it came out all wrong."

  


  


Harry looked around, and noticed the man behind the bar was gone. They were alone. Against his own better judgment, Harry sat back down.

  


  


"Now, all I'm saying is - " Hermione started again, but Harry stopped her.

  


"Do we have to talk about this now?" he asked. His limbs were aching with sudden exhaustion. Hermione looked at him steadily.

  


  


"I know you don't want to," she said, "But, who knows when I'll see you again, Harry? You work all the time. And don't interrupt me," she added as Harry opened his mouth. "Listen to me."

  


  


She pushed a lock of bushy hair from her face and sighed. "I wish... I wish I didn't have to tell you all this, but I have to. We've all been meaning to... Ron, Ginny... everyone." 

  


  


At the mention of Ginny, Harry shifted in his seat. Hermione looked back up at him.

  


  


"Yes, even Ginny. She does miss you, too... but that's not what I'm talking about."

  


  


There was a moment's silence. Dawn was creeping into the room, washing the floor and chairs in golden light. A chilled, frosty sort of air accompanied the light, giving the morning a refreshing, new sort of feel. 

  


  


Harry didn't like it. 

  


  


"Tell me something, Harry," Hermione cut across him, watching him. "Do you like working?"

  


  


"What? Yes, of course I do!"

  


  


She nodded, curling her fingers around her teacup. "Do you like knowing you're helping people?"

  


  


Harry felt confused, but slightly wary. "Er – yes, I suppose."

  


Hermione nodded again. Her busy curls shook in the morning light. "Now tell me something else, " she asked softly, "Do you like work more than your friends... your family?"

  


  


Harry shook his head slightly, not believing Hermione was even asking him that. "No, of course I don't... but work is still important - "

  


  


"Merlin, Harry!" Hermione said, and she suddenly looking furious. "Would you really rather be worrying about _nothing, _then living a life you deserve, a life you've finally achieved?" 

  


  


Harry shook his head slightly, not wanting to listen. He wanted to stand up, and storm out of this place, never see Hermione again, never listen to another useless word she had to say.

  


  


But some part of him knew she was right. Perhaps he_ had_ been working too hard... perhaps he _was_ worrying about nothing. And perhaps... perhaps he should have married Ginny when he'd had the chance. 

  


  


Everything seemed to be crashing down around him. Had he been ignoring the truth for this long? When Sirius had died, things didn't seem to matter anymore. And then, one gray morning, he'd decided he wasn't going to let another death like Sirius's happen again.

  


  


But they did. Death after death... first Sirius, then Dumbledore. Hagrid. Arabella Figg. 

  


  


Something was ripping and tearing at his insides. He was no longer in the Three Broomsticks with Hermione. He was in the common room of Gryffindor Tower, with Ginny.

  


  


_"Harry, this isn't just your fight! It's everyone's!" she shouted at him, tears streaming across her cheeks._

  


  


_He watched her quietly, his heart bursting. "I'm sorry. I have to go."_

  


__

__He'd defeated Voldemort that night, in a blaze of gold and scarlet. He had pushed himself through the fray of spells and bodies, his heart pounding with fear and hatred. And then, facing Voldemort, he had cast the very spell that had killed his parents.

  


  


After that night, things had gotten quiet. People seemed to be happy, even with so many gone. Hermione and Ron started to do normal things again, like spending the day in Hogsmeade, or having a feast at the long forgotten Burrow.

  


  


But Harry, for reasons he hadn't figured out, worked harder than he ever had in his life. He studied at all hours, passing his three years of Auror training with flying colors. 

  


  


But his first day of work was uneventful; there wasn't nearly as much to do when there was no Dark Lord to fight. So Harry made himself work to do. He researched, and studied, always finding something to investigate. And in so doing, he'd pushed Ginny away.

  


  


Something was tightening and throbbing in his throat. He looked down, blinking. Surely, surely... 

  


  


He had long felt there was something missing after Voldemort was defeated. Surely it wasn't...

  


  


He looked back up at Hermione, who was watching him, a terrible sadness in her eyes. His own eyes were burning.

  


  


Surely the adventures hadn't ended?

  


  


Hermione let out a weak laugh. "No, Harry. I'm sure they never will."

  


He started, gazing at her, not realizing he'd spoken the question aloud.

  


  


There was a pause, and then Hermione said softly, "Is that what this is all about?"

  


  


Harry gazed numbly at her, unable to overcome his sudden revelation. "I – I guess," he answered feebly.

  


  


Hermione let out a burst of laughter. "Oh Harry..." she sighed.

  


  


Seeing the smile on her face, Harry suddenly wanted to smile too. He wanted to get up and dance, or run into the chilled morning air. He wanted to laugh.

  


  


"We've been quite silly just now, haven't we?" she asked gently, a smile still lingering on her face.

  


  


Harry looked at her, reflecting on their rather dramatic start to the morning. Yes, it all did seem quite silly now. A happiness Harry supposed he'd been keeping pushed down bubbled steadily up inside him. He grinned.

  


  


"So..." he said, standing up and smiling down on Hermione. "When's that ball again?"

  


  


  


  


  


A/N: I just wrote this on the whim it might work itself into something presentable. I hope you all like it. I'm not sure if it's just a one time shot, or something that deserves more chapters. If so, please drop a review. 

  


Actually, just drop a review anyway. I need them. :) Wink wink.

  


  


  


  


  



	2. Decisions

  


  


Prelude

  


Chapter Two

  


  


  


Harry awoke slowly, sunlight streaming through the small open window by his bed. His blankets were wonderfully cozy, making Harry shut his eyes briefly to bask in the intoxicating warmth. His limbs were heavy, and smiling sleepily, he turned onto his side. His arm wrapped gently around the person next to him. He buried his face into her neck.

  


"Ginny," he murmured. Harry could tell from her breathing that she was awake. 

  


She didn't answer, nor did she move. Harry, his eyes still half closed, kissed her hair. She made no sound.

  


"Ginny?" Harry sat up slightly to look at her. A mass of fiery red hair was covering her face. Harry reached for it tenderly, to brush it away.

  


But as the tips of his fingers slid across the hair, it all seemed to fall into her face. It was as though she had no features, just a glaring hole, a hollowed skull. Her teeth were bared and gaping, her eyes empty and cold.

  


Harry struggled for breath, but there was none. His lungs contracted, struggling.

  


He woke up.

  


The drapes were drawn over his window; no sunlight shone through and his room was stifling hot. Harry kicked off his covers, gasping. He put his hands over his eyes. 

  


It was the third time he'd dreamt anything like that. Always, the dreams left Harry shaking and terrified. And always, the dreams were of Ginny. 

  


Harry looked at the clock on his bedside table. It was almost noon. Shaking his head, desperately trying to forget the dream, he slung himself out of bed and made toward the bathroom to take a long, cold shower.

  


  


*** 

  


  


Ginny Weasley was not happy. Actually, she was pretty annoyed.

  


"Ginny, it's nothing really. You'll go to the ball and have fun. Forget about Harry."

  


She and Hermione were sitting in the kitchen of the Burrow, eating lunch. Ginny's brothers had gone outside for a long desired game of Quidditch. Before Ginny could join in, however, Hermione had pulled Ginny aside to 'discuss' with her, as Hermione had so kindly put it.

  


"No, Hermione," Ginny told her firmly. "I'm not going. Honestly, I'm surprised you even convinced Harry to come."

  


Hermione looked uneasy. "Well... see, I didn't actually _tell _him you would be there."

  


Ginny snorted in disbelief. "Hermione, I don't understand you sometimes. This is going to be a fiasco."

  


"No it won't, trust me." Hermione nodded at her, matter-of-fact, and took a small bite out of a chicken sandwich. They sat in silence for a moment.

  


"Don't tell me you're not a bit curious, " Hermione finally said, watching Ginny.

  


"Of course I'm curious, who wouldn't be? I haven't seen him in months..." Ginny said casually, though her heart was hammering.

  


The last time she had talked with Harry was on her birthday, actually. She hadn't even said much, just small talk. But every time she thought back on that night, she wished she'd said more. It was stupid, this fight they were having, but at the same time, it was terribly important. It was their first, technically, if you didn't count all the stupid arguments about Quidditch they'd had.

  


The truth was, Ginny was more than curious about Harry. She missed him.

  


Across the table, Hermione shook her head and sighed. "You know what the problem is with you and Harry?"

  


Ginny had heard this one a million times. It was always different. Sometimes, the problem was they were too easily offended. Sometimes it was that they just like fighting. But normally, in Ginny's view, it was because Harry was a git. Ginny picked at a carrot, waiting for Hermione to add to the list.

  


"You're both too stubborn," Hermione said, nettled. She took a long drought from her flagon of pumpkin juice and continued. "Harry didn't even believe me when I told him you missed him."

  


"Hermione!" Ginny cried angrily. "What in the world did you go and say that for?"

  


"It's true, isn't it?" Hermione asked.

  


"No!" 

  


Hermione raised her eyebrows at her. Ginny glared furiously back.

  


Hermione sighed and stood up, smoothing out her skirt. "Fine, if you don't believe me..." She gazed at Ginny for a moment. "Won't you please come to the ball?"

  


Ginny shook her head lightly, still annoyed. "I'll think about it," she said broodingly.

  


"Wonderful!" Hermione said happily, clapping her hands together. "I'll go tell Ron. If you decide to go, the ball is tonight at nine, until dawn. It's going to be formal, so if you've still got those dress robes from last year you could wear them. And, of course, we could go to dinner and maybe you could - "

  


"Hermione. I've only said I'll think about it."

  


"Right," Hermione said, giving her a dismissive wave of the hand. And with that, she twirled her burgundy robe around her shoulders and left through the back door, still muttering to herself.

  


Ginny dropped her head onto the table. It was going to be a long night. 

  


  


***

  


  


  


_A/N: Sorry this is so short. I wanted the actual ball to be a chapter by itself. So the *next*_ _ chapter will be the ball. And trust me, Harry and Ginny will eventually talk to each other. Maybe even snog ... Mmmm. Angsty Fluff._ :) 


	3. In a Look

_Disclaimer: It all belongs to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing, for I simply borrow things. _

**Chapter Three**

She was not going to wear her old robes. They _were_ gorgeous... the way the embroidered burgundy hem brushed her ankles... and the way they hugged in her in just the right places... not to mention the fact that they also complimented her hair and complexion quite nicely.

Ginny sighed and fell backward onto her bed. It was no use. This ball was too much for her – her stomach writhed at the thought of seeing Harry. And yet... some small part of her wanted to look stunning when she came walking – no, _sweeping _through the Great Hall's double doors. She wanted to look pretty and confident... as though leaving Harry had no effect on her whatsoever.

But looking beautiful was only the half of it. Harry would want to talk to her... and if Ginny was true to herself, she wanted to talk to him as well. Not just small talk, but a real conversation.

Someone knocked on her door.

Come in. Ginny's voice was muffled under her pillow.

The door didn't open. Are you decent?

Ginny smiled slightly. Ron, whatever happened to you barging into my room, without thought to whether I was dressed or not?I married Hermione!

Ginny laughed, rolling sideways of her bed to open the door.

You know, said Ron, stepping into her room and grinning, I do sort of miss just coming in here without knocking... What do you want, Ron? Ginny tried to appear annoyed, but for some reason, felt suddenly fond of her brother.

Oh, you know... Ron shrugged and sank into a chair by her desk. His hair was rumpled from Quidditch, and there was dirt stains on his shirt. Hermione's gone back to the house. I just thought I'd say hello and ask whether - I'm going to the ball? Ginny asked amusedly, her hand on her hip.

Er – yeah, he answered. His eyes were worried. Look, Gin, I know Hermione is real persistent and all, but if you don't want to see Harry tonight and... I don't know, I guess I'm just saying you don't have to go if you're not ready.

Ginny turned back to her dress robes and folded them up. Well, thank you for your consideration, Ron. But I, she magicked the robes to a shelf in her closet, will be going. It's been a while since I've gone out, anyway.

It was easy to lie. She'd had a whole life of practice at it, with six older brothers in the house, and her parents. The only people who had ever been able to see right through her were Dumbledore, Hermione and... Harry.

Trying desperately to sound casual, Ginny asked, Do you even see Harry anymore?

Ron looked at her, his expression unreadable. Yeah, sometimes. Ginny nodded.

There was a long pause in the room.

Well, I'd better go... said Ron quietly, heading toward the door.

As he turned the door nob, Ginny spoke. Her voice was soft; it had a hint of sadness to it.

Ron – I... if I decide not to go to this ball, and I'm not promising anything... but if I don't go, and Harry _is_ there... will you tell him something from me?

Ron watched her, his brow furrowed. Sure, what?

There was another short pause.

Tell him I say hello.Oh my, this really _is_ a pleasure! Simply marvelous... _the_ Harry Potter, in this very shop! It's an honour to meet you, sir... 

Harry smiled slightly and nodded at the woman flitting around him. He was in Gladrag's Wizardwear being fitted for a pair of dress robes. His old ones had gotten rather short, and it was about time he'd bought new ones. The woman fitting him, however, was definitely more eager about the whole thing than he was.

He glanced at his watch. Half past eight.

Excuse me, madam... I'm in somewhat of a hurry – there's somewhere I need to be at nine – Of course, of course! I wouldn't _dream_ of making Harry Potter late for any sort of appointment – can you imagine how people would talk? The woman laughed nervously, her earrings swinging forward.

Harry nodded again, unable to think of anything to say. He really disliked the attention he received for who he was... and to his disappointment, it only intensified after Voldemort's defeat. He sighed slightly, barely noticing a pair of scissors trim the hems of his sleeves.

After another fifteen minutes or so, the witch declared, rather proudly, There you are, Mr. Potter! It's the finest work I've done yet – though, and she leaned in close, as though afraid of being overheard, I really did it for _you_. You deserve the absolute best, Mr. Potter!

Harry smiled at her, wishing she would stop saying his name so often.

He turned to look in the mirror.

Someone he did not know blinked back at him. His reflection... well, he had to say, he did look _quite_ good. The robes were long and deep green, almost black. A wonderful embroidery of moons and stars patterned the hems, but it was simply the cut of the robes that impressed Harry the most. He was... refined... his shoulders seemed wide. And the the skinniness that he seemed to have always possessed, was gone. He looked, instead, to be slender and tall, with a handsome air he'd not expected.

What did I tell you? the witch cried happily, as Harry stood gaping at his reflection.

Is this mirror charmed? Harry asked, slightly suspiciously.

The witch let out a peal of squeaky, high-pitched giggles.

With a sense of humour like that, Mr. Potter, she said breathlessly, clutching her side, You'll be sure to catch any woman's eye! Surely... there must be someone? Her eyes widened in curiosity.

Harry lied, but a sudden panic bubbled inside him. What if Ginny was going to the ball?

_Then you should pay for these robes and hope the woman's right, shouldn't you?_ said a small voice in the back of his head.

Smiling again, Harry handed the witch a handful of galleons.

The decorations in the Great Hall were stunning as usual. The ceiling reflected a sultry, starry night sky, while the walls shimmered slightly against the torch light. The floor was set up quite like it had been at the Yule Ball, so many years ago. A series of small, private tables clustered on the right side of the room, clearing space for the dance floor.

Minerva McGonnagal, for one, was proud. She, as well as the rest of the staff, had worked very hard the last four years to rebuild Hogwarts. They had restored it to the perfection it was before the war; the Great Hall had been repaired completely, down to the stain glass windows. Every staircase was back to normal, or as normal as a Hogwarts staircase could ever be. As for the grounds outside the castle – they were as picturesque and beautiful as ever, perhaps even more so.

This ball had been her idea. She sent the invitations to every student who had finished school the year of the Last War, telling them they were welcome to attend a reunion celebration. The truth was, however, that Minerva wished to congratulate, publicly, the heroes of the war. Though few knew, she had the ceremony entirely arranged to award all those who had struggled against the corruption of Lord Voldemort.

_Albus would have wanted it_, she thought, her thin mouth curving into something that might have been a smile.

The first guest was Hermione Granger, in robes of pale yellow, closely followed by Ron Weasley. Ron looked slightly hassled.

Hermy, I don't see why we needed to arrive so early - And I don't see why you insist on calling me _Hermy, _Hermione whispered furiously, dragging Ron steadily along toward a group of professors.

Because it annoys, love, Ron said, giving her a devilish sort of half-grin.

Hermione glared at him. You know, it's a wonder you're still alive after all this time. I should have killed you by now – oh hello, Professor McGonnagal!

McGonnagal strode toward the two, a rare smile gracing her features. Miss Granger – or should I say, _Mrs. Weasley_?

Hermione blushed, but twisted her fingers through Ron's all the same. Please, Professor, it's been so long... you can call me Hermione, if you like.

McGonnagal nodded, her eyes displaying an uncharacteristic twinkle. Of course. And if it suits, you may call me Minerva.

Hermione beamed. Thank you... Minerva.

Ron looked slightly bored at this exchange, but was careful to hide his expression from the old professor. He broke away from Hermione, as she chatted gaily to McGonnagal about work with the ministry, and made his way to a table laden with beverages. To his pleasure, there was a large quantity of mead.

The other guests arrived shortly afterward, and in no time at all, the room seemed to be swarming with old faces. There was Neville, with Luna Lovegood – and Seamus, hand in hand with Lavender Brown. Ron sank into a chair beside Hermione, sipping slowly on his mead.

Ron and Hermione both turned.

Harry was standing behind them, in magnificent robes of dark green. The crowd in the room seemed taken by his presence; whispers and furtive looks were exchanged. Ron stood, and found that Harry was nearly his height.

Good Lord, you've gotten tall! Ron exclaimed, clapping Harry jovially on the back.

I suppose... Harry watched him for a moment. It's been a while, hasn't it?

Ron frowned. Five months, mate.

Harry shrugged slightly, dropping into a chair.

I'm really glad you've decided to come, Hermione started, ignoring the stares they were now receiving from a group of girls a table near them. Hermione turned to Ron. Have you seen Ginny?

Harry stared steadily at a spot on the tablecloth.

I think she's coming, Ron said quietly, watching Harry apprehensively.

Harry stood. Excuse me, I'm going to get a drink.

As he left, the group of staring girls left their seats to follow him.

She might not be coming? Hermione demanded.

Well, I dunno... she wasn't too thrilled when I spoke to her.She can't _not come, _ Hermione said, shaking her head. I'll make her come, I'll march right into the Burrow and - That won't be necessary, Ron said, leaning back on his chair.

She's here now.

Ginny had just swept into the hall, looking as if she'd stepped right out of a fairytale. Her hair hung in fiery ringlets down her back, contrasting to the vivid white of her robes. Her robes were full and fitted, they appeared to be more of a dress than anything. She gazed around the hall, then spotted Ron and Hermione.

Just before she reached their table however, her eyes focused on another spot in the room, and she stopped completely. Hermione looked around, and saw Harry talking to the group of girls who had followed him. He was grinning and laughing. Hermione, Ron and Ginny watched as one girl, a pretty, dark-haired one, brushed her fingers along Harry's arm. Her face was close to Harry's, as she whispered in his ear.

Hermione's eyes widened. Ginny started to walk very slowly backwards. Ron seemed to have forgotten all about his mead, it was beginning to tip into his lap.

Before anything else could happen, before any of them even saw Harry react, Professor McGonnagal stood up at her table, calling attention.

It is an honour to have you all here tonight, I want to thank you for coming. There are many things to be said – but as an old, and very dear friend of mind would have reminded – this is not the time for it. Now is the time... for feasting.

As she said this, menus appeared at every table.

Thank you again for coming, she said, sitting back down.

Hermione swiveled back to the scene before her, but couldn't see Harry, or any of the girls he'd been speaking with. Ron started flipping through his menu.

You're lucky I came, a voice said beside her.

Ginny had settled herself into a chair at the table. She seemed oddly composed.

Hermione nodded, but leaned close to her, speaking in low tones. You saw that, didn't you? With Harry? Look, whatever was happening, I'm sure Harry wouldn't - Oh, I know nothing happened, nor will anything happen, Ginny said loftily, picking up a menu and grazing her eyes over the choices. That was Parvati Patil he was with just now.Parvati – ? Hermione looked confused. Are you sure? It didn't look - It was, said Harry, slipping into a chair opposite them. He was gazing at Ginny, a melancholy gleam in his eye.

Hello, Harry, Ginny spoke, though the words were barely audible. Ginny cursed herself mentally – what happened to being cool and calm?

he murmured back.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Hermione pretended not to notice. Ron was either pretending, or he really didn't notice – he was too distracted by a pile of roast potatoes.

The rest of dinner was much of the same; Harry and Ginny barely said two words to each other, though their eyes spoke so much more. Hermione seemed frustrated at the lack of conversation, she made attempts at more talk, but was quickly put out. Ron, on the other hand, appeared to be escaping the tension by eating as much possible.

When McGonnagal finally stood up again, it was a major relief to everyone at the small table.

That was an excellent feast, I'll be sure to thank the house-elves, McGonnagal said, and her gaze seemed to fall upon Hermione. Hermione grinned, blushing. We have music - a band of instruments without players appeared near the dance floor so I suggest we all enjoy ourselves for the time being!

There was a joyful murmur through the crowd, and many couples ascended toward the floor. Ron grinned at Hermione and took her hand, leaving an awkward Harry and Ginny at the table alone.

Well... this is nice, isn't it? Ginny said, feeling like an idiot.

Yes, they've done a good job, Harry replied.

There was another long silence. Ginny opened her mouth to comment on the food when a small woman, with her hair twisted into a bun, approached them.

Excuse me. She seemed rather nervous. Mr. Potter, sir – would you, I mean, do you want to dance?

Harry automatically looked around at Ginny, as though expecting her to answer.

The girl looked startled. Oh, my! I'm sorry – this must be you're date... I'm sorry. She looked lost for a moment, then hurried off in the opposite direction.

No, no – miss! But the woman had vanished. Harry was left standing, his arm slightly out-stretched.

For the slightest sliver of a moment, Ginny thought, Harry looked rather lost himself.

He turned back to the table slowly.

Sympathy was reigning in Ginny's heart. She scooped up her goblet haphazardly, and drained the rest of it in one fell swoop. She had the sudden desire to get very, very drunk.

A strained silence and six glasses of firewhisky later, Harry finally cleared his throat.

He paused. He hadn't called her _Gin_ in months. he began again.

Ginny gazed up at him, her eyes seemingly overlarge, but gorgeously brown in the candlelight. Harry found he was having trouble concentrating.

Want to go – go for a walk?

Ginny stared at him for a second, blinked heavily, then smiled. Yes, as a matter of fact, I _would_.

Harry tried not to notice the thick smell of whiskey on her breath.

He took her hand gently as he helped her out of her seat. She seemed both giggly and sleepy. And Harry found he didn't mind at all; she had let her guard down – making him feel more comfortable around her than he had in ages.

They made their way around the dancing couples, and through the doors leading to the gardens. With decorative fairies in the bushes and fountains scattered along the cobblestone pathway, Harry was reminded forcibly of his fourth year, and the Yule Ball.

Ginny was standing slightly apart from Harry, and he had the sudden desire to touch her arm, touch any part of her really, just to be sure she was really there. But just as he'd darted out a tentative hand toward her hair, Ginny sank onto a stone bench. She smiled up at him, oblivious to Harry's gesture.

It's nice out here isn't it? Ginny said, her smile still lingering. It all looks very familiar. Why's that? You know, Bill told me this story once about deja vu, and how it all came around because some wizard had cast a very powerful spell over a town, and the people ended up doing things, and then forgetting them – or was it they forgot things first, and then did them? Anyway, the wizard - 

She was rambling. Harry thought she was beautiful. And it was killing him, because he knew he couldn't tell her anything even vaguely important while she was in this state. She wouldn't remember a bit of it.

But it was worth a try.

Ginny - Well, of course, they couldn't take the spell off after that! So... Her gaze focused on Harry. I - Something was sticking in his throat. What was he supposed to say? What would anyone say after all these years?

Look, Ginny, this isn't easy, not in the slight - Do you hear that? Ginny's ear was craning toward the entrance to the Great Hall.

Harry paused and listened. Someone, McGonnagal perhaps, had magnified their voice and was saying something to the group in the hall.

Come on! Ginny leaped up and took his hand, dragging him past flickering rose bushes and sparkling fountains.

Harry tried to say, but she didn't stop. Harry didn't care about what was happening in the hall – this was his moment to tell her how he felt.

He might not get another chance.

They arrived in the Great Hall and Harry was astounded to find every face turned toward him. A slow applause began to echo around the room.

Wha - Harry stared bewilderedly around.

Mr. Potter, up here, if you please! McGonnagal called over the crowd.

As he was ushered forward by a few people he didn't know, a camera flashed in his face. Harry had blinked away little white lights in time to see Colin Creevey grin excitedly at him. For the _Prophet, _Harry!

When he finally reached the front of the hall, McGonnagal smiled somewhat proudly down at him. Her eyes looked uncharacteristically misty.

The true purpose of this banquet was to allow all those who fought for their friends, their family, and for the good of human-kind in the Last War, a reward. We owe a great amount of our gratitude to many in this hall – but we owe perhaps the greatest of all to you, Mr. Potter.

Harry felt the cameras flash again. Someone moved beside him, and he turned to see Ron and Hermione smiling encouraging at him.

We cannot begin to count the times you saved wizard-kind, as well as muggle, from peril, McGonnagal continued. Harry opened his mouth to protest that it wasn't just him, when she added, And you're modesty, of course has always been just as high on your list of priorities.

Harry grinned somewhat reluctantly, his heart fluttering at all the eyes on him.

The crowd laughed lightly and Ron rested a hand on his shoulder.

We can only hope, McGonnagal said, opening a small box at the table beside her and brining out a glinting piece of jewelry, that you will accept this as a token of our undying appreciation, love, and everlasting gratitude toward you.

She clasped it around his neck. Harry's breathing was shallow.

It is charmed heavily with protection charms and spells. We felt it was the least we could do – you see, Mr. Potter, it is now our rightful duty to protect _you_, as well as everyone who fought on the side of light.

The crowd broke into furious applause; some even seemed to be in tears.

Harry, however, had been drawn away from all that. He didn't hear McGonnagal calling more names, didn't feel the many hands on his back, or continued applause as he stepped heavily back toward the crowd. He paid no attention to any of these things, for something entirely different, entirely as special – as beautiful, amazing, was gazing at him.

Ginny was staring at him with a look in her eyes that made Harry's heart pound in his ears, his breath stop short, and his mouth go suddenly dry. It was exactly the sort of look that made one feel, inevitably, that nothing was wrong in the world.


End file.
